Again silence came from the other end. My wondering about getting back to the therapist increased. I brushed my teeth multiple times a day to the point where my gums were tender and would bleed.
Then another message.
“My psychiatrist has been helping some. I see her twice a week. At least it forces me to leave the house more. I recommend her to you. Her name is Wendy Bell.”
Leave the house? Well, I was thankful not to have that problem on top of all the others.
I looked up Dr. Bell and called her. I explained my situation and that Steph Chan had referred me. Then I emailed Steph.
“Thank you for referring me to Dr. Bell. She’s meeting with me this Friday. You’re right. I can’t do this myself.”
That Friday, thankful again that leaving the house was not on my list of problems, I went to see Dr. Bell.
“Because of the sleep deprivation, I’m drinking seven or eight beers a night to help knock me out. I still have the dreams, though, and if they’re bad enough, I’ll wake up. And when I’m up like that, then I’m up for good.”
“I see,” she said, jotting a note. “Any other difficulties?”
I moved on to my cleaning obsession. “And on top of everything else, after having quit smoking for 12 years, I’ve started up again. One night, when the dream woke me up, the only thing I could think about was driving to 7-Eleven and buying a pack of cigarettes. I’m up to a pack a day now.”
She nodded. “Any other things you’re struggling with?”
Off the top of my head, I couldn’t think of anything else.
“All right, Mr. Lee, I first want to assure you that while you might feel overwhelmed by these things you’re dealing with, we can find a way to move that will help you.”
She went on to talk about the ways trauma can manifest itself, and that I should try to help myself first by accepting that what was happening to me was not in any way unusual.
“Now I know you want all of this to end, and you want it to stop right now, but I can also assure you that patience is needed now. We won’t make progress until we realize that addressing the problem piece by piece is the way this has to be done.”
She was right, I knew. And even though my heart sank when she confirmed that there was no magic bullet, well, I’d had a suspicion that such would be the case.
“So, as we work through this,” Dr. Bell continued, “I can help you with the easiest piece first. I’ll prescribe a sedative to help you sleep. We’ll start with a lower dosage and see if that helps. If not, we’ll increase it. Alcohol, as I’m sure you know, disrupts sleeping. With this sedative, we’ll hopefully cut down on your need for the beers.”
I nodded. Sleep, I needed. Beer, I did not. During the pandemic I’d all but quit drinking. I had not missed it at all.
“And try this,” she said. “The next time you want to shower, make a conscious effort to tell yourself that instead of three a day, you’re going to try to go to two. Instead of getting into the shower. Sit down and say, ‘I only need two.’”
That night I implemented both strategies. I took the sedative first, then, as this drowsiness came on, I stood outside my shower and told myself I could wait for the morning to bathe. It felt like the sedative had the effect of making it easier to walk away from the shower and head straight for bed. I’d forgotten about heading to the refrigerator for a beer, although I did smoke a cigarette before I lay down.
My next appointment was three days later. I reported the positive effect of the sedative. “But the dreams are still happening, and they can wake me up. And for sure I still picture the scene when I’m awake.”
“Mr. Lee,” she said, “I’m going to tell you something else that you won’t want to hear.”
I nodded, not looking forward to this piece of news.
“As we deal with the issues, I’m afraid I have to tell you that the hardest one will be forgetting what you saw. That is something that no manageable amount of any kind of drug can completely eliminate. Time is your greatest ally there. Hopefully, with time, the sharper edges of what you call the movie will dull, and the clarity of the pictures will fade.”
Somehow, I’d known this was what she was going to say.
“I’m glad to hear about the bath situation,” she said. “Now I want you not only to tell yourself that the shower can wait, but I want you to use that technique – just pause and tell yourself you can wait – on another area. Maybe the toothbrushing, maybe even the cigarettes. Stop and say, ‘I don’t need this cigarette,’ or ‘brushing my teeth can wait.’”
We decided that we’d stick with the low dosage until the next time.
That afternoon I emailed Steph.
“You were right, Steph, Dr. Bell is great. I feel like things are turning around. And it’s great, I think, that we’re not trying to do it all at once. I knew going in that while that was the dream, it wouldn’t work that way. One step at a time. I can see it happening.
“How is it going with you? Do things seem to be going better?”
I went outside to smoke a cigarette. Picking up the pack, I stared at what my hands were doing.
“I don’t need this one,” I said aloud. And my hands put down the pack.
Steph had not answered my email by the time of my next appointment three days later.
I told Dr. Bell that I was making progress on the beer and the cigarettes, the showers and the toothbrushing.
“It’s all moving pretty well,” I said. “What do you think about the medication?”
She said she thought the level was still good. “Let’s just keep working on deciding, no matter what it is as far as the cleaning activities go, that you can wait for the next time to whatever it is you want to cut down on doing.”
Everything sounded good, but I’d held my last question until just as I was getting up to go.
“Dr. Bell, you know the woman Steph Chan who recommended me to you, how is she doing?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lee,” she said, “but I’m not able to discuss other clients with you.”
“Right, right,” I said. “Of course. But I was just wondering, you know, how she’s doing.”
“Yes, of course,” said Dr. Bell. “It’s good of you to be concerned. We need more of that during these times.”
I went home and checked my email. There was a message.
“I’m glad she’s helping you. I think she’s helping me, too.”
That was it. I’d been hoping for more.
I wrote back immediately. A short message.
“Steph, have you bought a new phone yet?”
I don’t know why I imagined she’d respond as quickly. There was nothing again before the next time I met with Dr. Bell, this time a week later.
I reported on my progress. The bathing was held twice a day, and I was brushing my teeth only twice a day as well. The handwashing was less, but still too much for my liking. My car, while still very clean, needed less of that. Beer drinking had stopped. I was down to under 10 cigarettes a day.
“This is all wonderful,” said Dr. Bell. “I have to say the rate of progress is remarkable. You’re responding very, very well to what we’re trying to accomplish.”
Wow, it felt like getting gold stars on my homework. I felt this extra boost of confidence, like a shot of adrenaline to help me shoot toward some kind of magic finish line.
If only those visions would fade. For that to happen, time was not moving fast enough. It was a different finish line for that, one that was still very far away.
When I got home, there was another message from Steph.
“I’m glad you’re making progress,” she said. “You keep going strong.”
There was no mention of a phone. I so wished I could call her so I could hear in her voice what kind of progress she was making.
I shot back, “And you, too. I’m amazed at how well I’m doing with Dr. Bell. Thank you again for recommending her. I didn’t think anyone could help me the way she has.
“By the way, did you buy a new phone yet?”
After I’d hit send, I sat staring at the screen. It would be great if she would let me know right away that she had a phone, and better yet, if she would include her number in the message.
A week passed with no message from Steph. My meeting with Dr. Bell went well. Everything seemed like it was falling more and more under control. I’d given up the cigarettes and beer completely.
I was so jacked up at this point that I emailed Steph straight from Dr. Bell’s waiting room. She’d still not responded to my last message, but again I asked about the phone.
Another week had passed. Still nothing from Steph. My appointment with Dr. Bell went so well that we decided to meet in two weeks, rather than one.
I checked my phone in the waiting room. Nothing from Steph. I sat there wondering if I should fire off another message asking about the phone. I didn’t.
Besides the visions of that day, most of what had gone wrong, the obsessions, were gone. Oddly, they seemed all to have been replaced by only one, single obsession. I would sit staring at my email inbox for longer and longer periods of time.
The two weeks had passed, and still nothing. I reported to my session with Dr. Bell, and all was good. But even though I knew she’d say nothing, tell me the same thing about patient confidentiality, I had this almost overwhelming desire to ask about Steph again. It took great effort not to blurt out the question as she closed the door behind me.
We’d decided to go three weeks before my next appointment. Everything was great, except for nothing from Steph. And then, one day, just before my next appointment, I saw it.
I couldn’t quite believe what I saw. It seemed like an eternity passed before I came back to myself. Looking through the paper, I came to the obituary section.
Stephanie W. L. Chan, 29, of Honolulu, passed away April 20, 2025. Private services were held.
Just a few words. There could be another Stephanie Chan, I thought. But I knew better.
After staring at those words for a long time, I went to my desk and reread our email chain. I could see it, I think. That even though she said she was making progress, it was more of an ebbing hope than an affirmation.
I stood up and headed for my car. The drive downtown passed without my even knowing it. I parked across the street. There was no sign of anything having gone so wrong three months ago. The big difference I could see, as I entered the courtyard, was that a plywood-walled corridor directed all foot traffic straight to the elevators. I could hear contruction going on behind the barrier.
Turning around, I went back outside and stared up at the massive building.
Lanning Lee 